Chapter Forty Two

Bilbo reached the edge of the clearing and threw himself at a pine trunk as thick as he was round. He could not get a grip on it, and the lowest branches were out of his reach. He jumped and jumped, but could not so much as touch them. Desperate, he ran to the next tree, where he repeated the same performance with the same results.

Not until Bilbo was attempting to climb his sixth tree, and getting very annoyed with himself for being unable to do something he had done easily when he had been younger, did any of the dwarves realise he was in trouble. Thorin shouted down to Dori, who was the lowest down of all the dwarves, "Be quick, and give Mr. Baggins a hand up!"

It was a relief to Bilbo that Dori moved instantly. The dwarf slid down the thick trunk to the lowest branches and leaned down, holding an arm out for Bilbo to catch. It was less of a relief that Bilbo was unable to reach even this, and his already racing heart began to gallop along like a panicked horse.

Bilbo leaped up and down until Dori scrambled out of the tree. The dwarf knelt on the ground, and Bilbo stepped onto his shoulders. From there, the hobbit was able to reach the bottom-most branch. He pulled himself up as quickly as he could, but still had only one hand on the branch when the first of the wolves burst into the clearing.

It must be said that Dori, who had not noticed when Bilbo had disappeared off of his back in the goblin tunnels, now redeemed himself. He remained still, allowing the hobbit to pull himself up into the tree. Only once Bilbo was secure did the dwarf move. He scrambled as fast as possible upwards, the hairy muzzle of the fastest wolf snapping shut only inches from his heel.

When Bilbo finally dared to look down, there were too many glowing yellow eyes beneath him to count. As far as he could see in the darkness, the clearing was full of wolves, all growling and leaping in the air in an attempt to reach the Company. It was good for the hobbit that he could not understand what the wolves were saying amongst the howls, because it may well have caused him to fall out of his tree in fright.

Gandalf, of course, understood every word. The important point, as far as he saw it, was that the wolves believed the goblins to be on their way. This was no surprise, given that the wizard had expected it since their escape from the mountains, but all the same it was not pleasant. Whereas wolves cannot climb trees, and will go in search of easier prey if their current target proves too difficult, goblins are smart. They can climb, and will cut down trees without a thought for how long they survived in the growing.

All Bilbo knew is that a pine cone, shining with blue flame, streaked past him. The wizard, high above, was raining fire on the wolves. Cone after cone he sent, each blazing a different colour, and each sending up sparks when it hit the ground. Several hit the wolves directly, and the tone of their howls changed. Even Bilbo could tell the difference between an angry howl and a frightened one; he watched the display with a small smile, and even cheered when the largest and loudest wolf leapt into the air, yowling, purple flame flaring from his muzzle.

Almost as soon as it had started, it was over. The burning wolves stopped only long enough to roll on the ground, drowning the flames in dirt, before running off with their tails between their legs. Bilbo would have jumped for joy, had he not been halfway up a tree on a branch as thin as his leg.

Bilbo was just starting to wonder why none of his companions had started to climb down (he himself could go nowhere until Dori vacated the branch below his) when the reason became all too clear. From all around the clearing whoops and cheers broke out, and the smouldering fires blazed high all around, sending smoke up into the treetops. The goblins had arrived.

Things became very bad very quickly. The goblins forced the fires inward until the flames licked the base of the trees in which Bilbo, Gandalf and the dwarves were sheltering. The smoke stung their eyes and seared their lungs, causing a cough worse than that produced by smoking rotten pipe weed. It was most unpleasant, and tears streamed down Bilbo's face, making tracks in the soot.

It must be said that Bilbo wasn't crying from fear, although he certainly felt enough of that. The sting of the smoke in his eyes made them water, but his voice was quite steady, at least until the goblins below began to sing. He could not make out the words, but the jeering sentiment was clear.

Before the goblins had finished their song, the bark just below Bilbo and Dori had burst into flame. All five trees were burning; Bilbo didn't know if the trees would fall down or if he would jump down to get out of the smoke, but either way things were looking very serious for the Company.

Thorin and Gandalf shouted to each other above the crackle and roar of the flames, but Bilbo again couldn't hear well enough to understand. The wizard's staff glowed suddenly in the darkness, bright in comparison to the moonlight and firelight; in fact, Bilbo closed his eyes, and he wasn't the only one.

It was more than lucky that Bilbo opened his eyes, because something happened then that cannot be easily explained. Eagles, larger by far than any Bilbo had seen in the furthest reaches of the Shire, swooped down among the trees. Some picked up dwarves out of the trees, but not a one made a move towards Bilbo. As Dori rose upwards in front of him, clutched in a set of shining gold talons, Bilbo grabbed the dwarf's legs. He too was jerked up into the air. Looking down, he saw yet more eagles far below, scattering the goblins away from the flaming wreckage of the ancient trees. Letting the eagle take him wherever it chose, the hobbit closed his eyes once more.